Vacant Memories
by kornmasterdan
Summary: With the exposure of Hydra, and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D, the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, must find a new mission. During a period of self-exile, Barnes must find a way to come to terms with his past as he struggles to find a way to move forward.


**Vacant Memories**

The world as he knew it was gone. The very organization that saved him from certain death, and trained him to be among the most deadly assassins in the world, was finally exposed and dealt a crippling blow. Before his very eyes he saw it crumble and get crushed under the weight of the very power they had spent decades to obtain. Now with no further mission, orders, nor indeed purpose, the Winter Soldier did what he did best and disappeared. In the weeks that followed after the reveal of Hydra and the crippling of S.H.I.E.L.D, the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, sought a new purpose. But first he needed answers.

For decades he was nothing to Hydra but a weapon, a faceless enemy with no name. Having encountered his last target, Captain Rogers, Barnes felt something new that didn't sit well with him, uncertainty. No target lived after he was given the order to terminate. Yet, the infamous Captain Rogers fought and resisted like no other. That mattered little to him because Captain America was just a name like any other, but after surviving not one, but two separate encounters with him, made Barnes uneasy. Hydra did not disclose the skill set of the Captain, nor reveal any info on his personal profile. He never asked for more information about his targets in the past unless it served his purpose. Yet after the first encounter with the Captain on the busy streets of Washington D.C., the mind of the Winter Soldier became unsettled He had never made a personal connection with any past victims for they were not people to him anymore; they were a mission and nothing more.

The mind and memory of the Winter Soldier was scattered and disconnected. That was the will of Hydra, to keep its most valued weapon on a blank slate, and only took him out of cryostasis when he was means to an end. Just like a machine that can think too much, it can become a threat and a danger to its very creators, much as Ultron became. But now the broken mind of Bucky Barnes was slowly piecing itself together. From the moment the Captain called him 'Bucky' in D.C., his mind constantly worked to put together the fragmented memories of his past. Extended periods of cryo, and electro-shock mind alterations left his brain in constant suspension, and only operated the way a skilled assassin operates; by instinct. Now having time, and no one to answer to, the Winter Soldier decided to go on one last mission. Exile. Even without knowing who he truly was, he knew that he would be a hunted man after the events that unfolded after his last encounter with the Captain. But he could not leave, not right away. Using his skills, he entered the Smithsonian without detection and came across the Captain America exhibit. It was then that he came across the memorial dedicated to a man who was, for all intents and purposes, dead. Though looking at himself and seeing the same name that the Captain had called him that day on the highway written on the display, he felt as if he was looking at a stranger. He stood there for a long time, reading the display information repeatedly, and indeed staring at himself for hours on end without moving.

Before long, most of the museum patrons had left and it was near closing time. Soon, he was left standing alone, almost in a trance. Just then an old man dressed in a security guard uniform came up to him and tapped his shoulder. Still have the instincts of a killer, he moved swiftly to the side, and turned to face the old man who was startled.

"I'm sorry if I scared you sir! But you must be going now we are closed to the public." Barnes looked intently at the old man, not moving or saying a word.

"Look son," began the old man, "I'm not looking for trouble but you must leave the premises or I will definitely get fired! I barely kept my job after the Captain's uniform was stolen!" Then the old man laughed, trying to ease the tension.

"Though I guess he can't steal what is his, am I right?" Barnes made no reply, but walked up to the old man who started to tremble.

"Where is he?" He asked the old man.

"The Captain, well I'm not sure. After all the fuss up the river, he hasn't been seen. At least that's what I hear." answered the old man hoping that this unsettling man would be satisfied and move on. Barnes just stared into the old man's eyes for a moment and without word walked quickly towards the exit and left.

The old man breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Two more years till retirement."

Barnes exited the building and walked the streets pondering. He knew the Captain was still alive having saved him from drowning. He also knew that the jagged memories that were returning to him were connected to the Captain. They had to be. It was no coincidence that a memorial to a version of his old self would be set up in the exhibit honoring Captain Steve Rogers. It was also no coincidence that when he asked about the Captain to his Commanding Officer, Alexander Pierce, he was not given a fully straight answer. Indeed, he couldn't then even remember being given an answer after asking the question. He remembered only pain. Learning what he read in the exhibit only provided more questions than answers. That was of little importance now. He knew he must leave, and leave immediately. Various intelligence agencies that still operated would be hunting him, along with whatever was left of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Most importantly, he knew that the Captain would soon pursue him. The fight aboard the helicarrier showed Barnes that the Captain would not kill needlessly, nor even in self-defense if his heart told him no. The jaded memories, the name he was called, and indeed telling him that he wasn't going to kill him, showed Barnes more than anything that the Captain was the link to the questions that had been piling up in his mind ever since he called him Bucky. Moreover, the Captain had risked his life to save his when he was pinned down by the steel frame. _Why would he do that? Aren't I his enemy? If we both survive, what was to happen?_ All these and more were at the forefront of his mind as he was pummeling the Captain and was met with no resistance. There was something different about him that he had never encountered before in all his years on the field. After surviving a stabbing and several gunshots, the Captain still had the skill to break his arm, and complete his mission. No opponent left a mark on the Winter Soldier. Ever. All the questions, all the confusion, and all of the training instilled in him were to no avail. Whether by a sudden onset of doubt in his mission due to the returning images of his past, or by sheer respect for a worthy opponent, he could not kill the Captain. Sinking back into the shadows from whence he came, the Winter Soldier disappeared from the eyes and ears of the C.I.A., the F.B.I, and even the N.S.A., for he hid in the best spot, in plain sight, right under their noses in the Smithsonian.

But he knew that he must depart, and get far away from the Hot Zone. Using his skills, he obtain enough money to book a one way flight to Mexico. Cash money of course, to leave no paper trail. Had Hydra been around, they would've just put him in a jet, but that luxury was no longer an option. They were no fools at Hydra, they trained him to survive on his own, if things got too heated. " _Don't stay in one place too long, your enemies will close in."_ This was one of many teachings that Pierce said to him over the years. The Winter Soldier knew this and followed his dead Commanders advice one last time. Luckily for him, Hydra had implanted a circuit scrambler inside his metallic arm as to not set off any metal detectors. It was just as easy to board a plane as it was to enter the museum without any hindrance. Of course his set of skill could get him into almost any building he wanted. " _Don't neglect the simple tricks, they stir less attention"_ was another lesson he applied to his escape from D.C.

All this and more crossed through his now expanding mind as he sat in his window seat chair. He looked out and saw solid white masses of clouds all beneath the plane and above a full moon and starry skies. Many times he parachuted down through the skies but his attention was on the mission, and the mission only. He never once just look about and admired the world for what it was. He didn't this time either, there was too much on his mind. Thankfully, a long flight gave him time to be with his thoughts. He knew he could survive, but what would his life be once he got there, he did not know. He came no closer to an answer when the plane touched down. His plan then was to take a bus even further into the country. After two days, he exited the bus and arrived in the city of Guadalajara. Even this city was too occupied for him, for it was well known and tourist destination. The less traffic of people, the better the odds he wouldn't get noticed. Having only a little money left, he bought food and civilian clothes to blend into the country.

The coast was his goal from the start, but it would be quicker to drop off in a main city and make his way from there. Having little money, the Winter Soldier had no choice but to steal a car and make his way west to the coast. He arrived in Perihuete, just north of San Miguel and made his camp. Having ditched and burnt the car to destroy any evidence of it, he made his way into the city. It was small and out of the way enough for his purposes so he found his way into a small abandoned shack, made of old wood, and odd bits of sheet metal. After making a bed as well as he could and using his poncho as a blanket, he slept for the first time in days.

Time passed slowly for him, for there was not much to do but eat, and stear clear of the drug cartel. Illegal business draws unwanted attention and though he could serve them and use the money, he kept his distance. That life wasn't for him anymore, or so he thought. That thought occupied his every waking moment. _What life? What now?_ As time went on his memories slowly unraveled in his head, and often he awoke from a nightmare in cold sweat. They became clearer now, more detailed. He could see the deeds of his days as the Winter Soldier and saw all the eyes that looked into his as they closed for the final time. He then began to realize what he truly was: a killer. All the lies that Hydra fed him and the mind wiping led him to believe that he was a soldier, doing his duty. Now, the truth had been laid bare. He had been manipulated and used as a machine to do the unthinkable. Hydra may have been pulling the strings, but that blood was on his hands. At last he could take it no more, and wept until the sun came up.

During his time in the city, he found what work he could. Sure he could steal to suit his needs, but it was time for something new. He had been taught several languages by Hydra. French, Italian, Spanish, and even Mandarin, were they to be of use in populated areas. He mostly help with the repairs and clearing of the streets due to his metallic arm (which he kept hidden at all times) and his enhanced strength. There was not much money to be made, but they always thanked him with what food they could spare. That was enough and he asked no more. He rarely spoke and made eye contact with no one, for he was still in hiding. Most avoided him because of his stare and imposing figure that just wasn't normal in this part of the world. It had been several months since the day Hydra was exposed and S.H.I.E.L.D. went down and he had not forgotten that day. The days made his mind clearer and he began to understand better who he was as a person. Almost every week he would unravel a new memory. He could see a young boy, happy, playing with many other boys in the streets. He could remember the smell of an older woman's pie on the window sill. But one memory stuck out to him more than most. He saw a small boy, younger than him, tiny even, and smiling at him. As more memories came, he kept seeing that small boy with him. Even as he remembered small snippets of memories of young adulthood, he saw that same boy, still smiling, and still ever tiny. Even as these memories came to him, he always remembered one person: Captain America. Was it true? All of it? Was his name really 'Bucky'? and maybe, just maybe, could Captain America be that same boy? He did not like these remembrances much, for every time a new memory would stir, it would cause him intense pain as his brain would work to unravel the damage Hydra did to it over the decades. It was a pain he felt he should endure for all the lives he took. One night he dreamt of a cold day, filled with snow. All he could hear was roaring sounds of the wind and someone shouting. He could not see who was shouting but, he began to hear the same word being shouted. Just as the final images of snow and ice passed through his eyes, he saw him. The face of Captain America. He looked into it and he saw fear and distress, but soon, it seemed to fly away from him. Looking up desperately to see the face again, he then heard the word that had been repeating all throughout the dream, getting louder and echoing in his ears. With a final shout that snapped him out of the nightmare, he heard the word that finally confirmed all his doubts: "BUCKY!" With that he awoke with a scream and smashed the chair next to his bed with his metallic arm, rendering it to splinters.

After regaining his composure, Barnes felt like he could do no more on his own and needed guidance. In his memories he saw a younger version of himself dressed nicely, standing with a women in a dress and makeup, reading from a book. He could only remember seeing the symbol of a cross on the cover and nothing more. He knew what the dream was and what was left for him to do. He needed to seek forgiveness.

The next night he went to the only church in the city. Normally it would be late and it would've been filled with people. This night however was different for it was late, and only two priests remained. As Barnes entered the church, he saw at the other end two figures on their knees praying to a statue of Jesus. Soon one of the robed figures stood up and removed his hood. He faced Barnes and slightly bowed to him.

"It is late my son." He said, speaking spanish. "Surely there must be something that is bothering you to come at this hour."

Barnes, recognizing him felt at ease and answered in the same tongue.

"Yes father, I have a matter that I have long delayed."

The priest went up to him and put his hand on his shoulder.

"No time is too late to seek guidance or forgiveness. But tonight you will get neither from me. It is late and I must retire. I shall have one of my constituents aid you in my stead."

He then went over to the younger priest still kneeling and whispered to him. Soon, the younger priest stood up and went into the confessional box on their right. The old priest then looked at Barnes and said, "Bless you my son, and may you find what you seek." He then put his robe over his head and exited the building to the left of the statue.

This was not a big city and thus the church was small as well. But it was always clean, and open all night round. This night there were few candles save for the front of the statue and two on either side of the main wooden doors. Barnes walked down the aisle towards the confessional. There were several wooden pews on either side. Though they were closer to being benches than pews. He saw some scattered bibles laying about and he stopped in front of the statue of Jesus. For awhile he just stared, seeing the rays of light from the candles dance and flicker of the smooth surface of the statue. Never in his time as the Winter Soldier did he ever seek forgiveness or turn to God. What good would it do now? Could he, or SHOULD he be forgiven at all? To these questions he had no answer. The priest in the confessional made no noise, but waited patiently.

After a while Barnes entered the confessional which as most things, was a thin wooden door with a small lock. To his right was a small window, wired and shaded with thin cloth. Barnes looked and saw the outline of the priest and the shape of his robe on his head. He seemed not to have moved at all. For a few moments, Barnes sat in silence with his head down. Finally the priest broke the silence.

"What are your sins, my son?" He asked in Spanish.

"I'd prefer English, Father." Barnes replied slowly.

"As you wish my son." He answered in clear English. This time Barnes heard his voice more clearly. It was calm, soft, and unthreatening. What were his sins? Where was he to begin? Once again, Barnes sat in silence.

"Do you seek forgiveness? Or do you not know what you seek?" He asked.

"I seek peace." was all Barnes said, followed by a long silence.

"Peace my son, like happiness, can only come from within." The priest said at last. "Inner peace is often the hardest to obtain."

"Maybe it's because there are those that don't even deserve inner peace." Barnes replied.

"How can one find peace in the forgiveness of others when it is not found within himself?" the priest asked.

Barnes could see through the shrewd questioning. The priest obviously could tell that Barnes was holding on to something that had driven him to the point of talking to religious followers and practitioners.

"Maybe it's because if true justice exists, then that is the only way to obtain it from others. Forgiveness won't repair the damage done." said Barnes.

"No, it won't." said the priest. "But it can prevent further damage from being done."

That was no use to Barnes. He travelled all this way to leave his old life behind. He hid himself from the world, and only focused on serving the people he lived amongst. He did all this to do just that, causing anymore damage. After a time of his brain healing itself, he began to realize just how much damage he had done in the world. He killed good people, his actions started wars, and led to countless deaths. Barnes grew upset and was close to breaking after remembering all this again.

"I've done the worst kind of damage there is to be done. And I've done it longer than you could ever know! Why? Why should I seek forgiveness?" asked Barnes with anger growing in his voice.

The priest remained calm and undeterred, "For that is why you have come is it not?" answered the priest without inflection.

Barnes soon began to drip tears down his cheeks. He had done the most horrible things to people, and now he was indeed all alone. Deep down in his soul, he did seek forgiveness. After all the weeks of nightmares waking him with an image of a new victim, he could not bear the weight of it anymore. With every new face, the more convinced he was that he didn't deserve it. Even the valid excuse of Hydra's mind manipulation, could he rid himself of the guilt. At last he spoke again.

"Yes. It is." Barnes said. And as he said these words the tears flowed freely down his face. For what seemed like hours, he sat in the small box, weeping. In that time the priest made no sound or movement.

After a while the priest spoke and once more asked again, "What are your sins, my son?"

Wiping the tears from his face, Barnes slowly began to indulge everything he could think of in his mind. Every theft, every felony… and every murder. After sometime Barnes could not take anymore and stopped. As always the priest made no sound or movement as Barnes bared his soul.

This release almost overwhelmed Barnes and he sat silent, breathing deeply, and every now and again wiping tears off his face. Finally the priest spoke again.

"If all you have said is true, its is only in your hands, and gods, that you may find solace."

Barnes made no reply.

"Are you indeed alone in all this?" the priest asked. "This is a heavy burden to bear without the aid and comfort of others."

"I don't have anyone." said Barnes. "Someone like me doesn't have friends. They are collateral damage."

"But there was that one person who you seemed to remember and reference again and again," the priest inquired.

Barnes then remembered the image that remained clearest to him. The image of Captain America, the same face in his dream the night before. He had no more doubts that same man whom he tried to kill was indeed the same friend from his memories.

"He…. he's gone." answered Barnes. "I do not know what happened to him after we last met."

"Was he alive?" asked the priest.

"So far as I know, yes." answered Barnes.

"If he was indeed the friend you spoke of, maybe he can help you." Barnes didn't buy that at all. Even though the Captain nearly died by his hands, and was saved by him, why would he bother?

"Perhaps he's a better friend than you think." said the priest. "Friends are often a great comfort in times of hardship. Those who stick by you till the end of the line, are ever the truest of friends."

At that line Barnes clenched his fists and remained still. He had heard that line, not just once before, but twice before. He remained still and listened for sounds of oncoming danger. He heard none. Though he had been in exile, he had not forgotten his training. All his time there, he remained watchful and alert. Not once did he see any suspicious people, or unusual activity. Never once did he catch anyone following or watching him. With nothing else to go on he peered into the obscured window. For the first time, the priest moved the cloth away from the wire mesh and removed his robe. He then looked at Barnes and said something no one else had said to him for a long time.

"Hey Bucky."


End file.
